


Captive

by MariaMediaOverThere



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: #boners, Foreplay, I Don't Even Know, i forgot about this actually, i think its better if i ended it like that, thats it thats all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 03:46:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12004329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaMediaOverThere/pseuds/MariaMediaOverThere
Summary: (Literally 1.6k words of foreplay- i don't know what else to tell you.)





	Captive

 

Athletic conditioning allows the human body to be in its most efficient disposition. That being said, everyone who makes it into international competitions have objectively good bodies.

 

Yet somehow, there’s something very particular about Phichit Chulanont’s… body of work... that catches Seung-Gil’s eye.

It’s very strange, considering there’s nothing incredibly new that the Thai brings to the table in terms of physicality. No third leg or missing fingers or anything.

 

The little creases that appears at the corners of his eyes when he smiles and the glistening quality of his warm gray eyes- like stone at the bottom of a tropical waterfall, well-worn and ethereal- … they’re typical, Seung-Gil tells himself.

 

His small stature means that when Seung-Gil finds himself standing a little too close to his fellow East Asian competitor, he can see the top of his head in full view.

How can one find the parting of someone’s hair so endearing? How can it be so demanding of having a face pressed against sweet-smelling hair, whispering sweet nothings into their scalp?

  


Seung-Gil feels feverish.

  


His pale skin gives the red wash in his face away too easily too often. He’s nothing like Phichit with his golden tan skin that warms up a room.

And his skin is so soft too! He must use a good moisturizer with the way his skin remains so dewy even after hours of grueling practice.

 

Seung-Gil had brushed Phichit’s unruly choppy bangs away from his eyes and felt the supple skin as his fingertips travelled over his forehead.

He had berated Phichit then in lieu of a greeting- something about his dumb haircut being immature. He had prayed his stoicism did not waver despite the fluttering in his gut.

  


Phichit’s face bloomed with a deep pink then (irritation, definitely)- but it may also just be the rose-colored lenses bleeding into reality.

 

 

As they passed each other on the ice that late afternoon, Seung-Gil caught sight of bead of sweat as it traversed the contours of his collarbone before dipping underneath his sportshirt. His skin radiated with that kind of sticky heat as a conclusion to hard work- Seung-Gil shouldn’t find the sight so obscene since he was probably at a similar state.

 

Of course, without fail, Phichit caught his line of sight and smiled- eyebrow quirked. There were words wanting to be said, but Seung-Gil kept them behind his teeth and thus pretended not to notice the boy.

His mouth felt ashy- heart guilty and mind buzzing. There’s a monster burrowed inside that made his guts a home; it refuses to leave. That beast tickles his insides and makes hot soup of his intestines whenever Phichit notices him.

Seung-Gil refuses to entertain pointless ideas.

The facts were that Seung-Gil knew a lot about the male physique and Phichit’s outward appearance shouldn’t stand out so much for him.

 

So he’ll just ignore it.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

Phichit’s breath is hot against his mouth. “H-Hey…!”

 

Despite surprise being apparent on his features- the Thai honestly didn’t seem to mind the contact… if his graceful fingers clutching the back of Seung-Gil’s hair was anything to go by.

 

Those warm gray eyes flicker down. The low lights catch, and make his eyes sparkles like in amateur doujinshi- complete with roses and screentone.

The Thai’s warm tan skin is practically a soft burgundy-and the color travels downwards to his neck.

  


Seung-Gil wants to chase the color down wherever it goes- with his tongue.

  


Speaking of which, Phichit’s tongue darts out and presses against the seam between Seung-Gil’s lips, asking for permission. If the Korean were a city-state, his civilization would have been ransacked from every direction because his defenses are down.

 

It’s not a strategic move to say the least, but Seung-Gil is happy to allow Phichit to explore him in every sense of the word.

 

Seung-Gil would get his turn eventually, anyways.

  
  


Tentatively, he snakes his hand down between them- tugging at Phichit’s dress shirt. Words betray him, so he grunts in some sort of semblance of a question.

Distracted but obviously ready for more, Phichit kisses deeper instead of responding properly.

 

Seung-Gil hates how his hands and feet are cold from the nerves. (Are they clammy and gross?)

Phichit must have realized how freezing his touch was the moment the pads of the Korean’s digits pressed against the tender skin above Phichit’s waistline- if the gasp was to be understood correctly.

  


With careful motion, Seung-Gil gently rakes his nails across the line above Phichit’s dress pants. The body pinned underneath him jolts and thrusts up. The friction is simply delicious despite being impeded by much too many layers of clothes.

 

Getting Phichit Chulanont in his bed was a crowning glory he could share with literally no one.

 

But it wasn’t like he was planning to share this intimate moment with anyone else anyways.

  


Phichit’s unruly bangs fan above his eyes and seem to frame the doe-eyed quality of them. It makes Seung-Gil crazy- heat building under his stomach. His hands start to have a mind of their own- grabbing and pulling at the Thai’s waist.

 

“Please take off my clothes.” Phichit’s voice is breathlessly rough. “Undress me, Seung-Gil.”

 

He grunts on reflex- the words are so familiar, often featured in his guilty late night musings. Yet, actually hearing them with his own two ears create a new dimension- a new fire is fanned, hotter and more destructive than ever. He dubs this fire ‘purpose’, and it makes his skin hot.

  


Arousal-dumb fingers fumble to undo buttons.

For sure, he should have savoured the moment- akin to unwrapping a present- and yet the expectation made time sprint forward in a mad dash.

 

The urgency thrumming between breaths in his lungs made Seung-Gil’s head spin- the button slips from his fingers.

 

Phichit didn’t seem to mind anyways, rolling his shoulders along with the motions of undressing. Seung-Gil makes good on his wishes and places a soft wet kiss unto his neck. He can feel the Thai’s heartbeat pulse beneath his lips then.

 

He releases his grip on Phichit’s waist and tentatively runs his thumb across the one of his newfound lover’s dark rosebud nipples.

  


A squeal passes through Phichit’s lips and he immediately curls in on himself with embarrassment.

Seung-Gil refused to allow him to shy away from his body’s natural responses- especially if it sounds so good like that. With loving intention, the Korean flicks Phichit’s nipple with his thumbnail in a consistent pattern.

Phichit’s midsection shudders from the touch. He whines lowly, breaths coming out in heavy pants. The bed’s dip lightens as the Thai’s spin curved inwards and up.

 

He says Seung-Gil’s name softly over and over like a mantra. It was equal parts incredulous and irritated- eager to carry things forward.

  


His own hands that have been on his Seung-Gil’s shoulders travel to his belt.

“I thought I was going to undress you.” Seung-Gil can’t help the teasing edge in his voice.

 

“You take too long.” Phichit tugs at his belt and it makes a resounding snap as the older male pulls it out of his pants’ loops. “Come over here.”

  


Phichit opens his legs then (like the pearly white gates of heaven opening up for him), the tender skin between his thighs being vulnerable to the world. Seung-Gil wants to cover Phichit up from everyone else- hide him away like the treasure he is. How could one man be both a plague and a blessing?

  


He pinches a nipple as some sort of punishment- or was it a reward?

 

Phichit keens at the stimulation. His lip quivers just slightly, almost unnoticeable.

“Come on already!” It’s almost animalistic in its rawness. Desperation colors Phichit Chulanont’s eyes almost completely dark- pupils blown wide.

 

Seung-Gil moves his hips- angling his length to rub against Phichit’s. It was ¼ for himself- his dick too uncomfortably hard in the confines of his slacks.

The bottom keens at the rubbing- back arching and eyes beginning to droop seductively. His own cock is making a tent at the front of his underwear. It was pointing almost accusingly at Seung-Gil, saying ‘You did this. Fix it.’

 

Seung-Gil was more than happy to oblige.

  
  


He nips at the skin on Phichit’s hip- sucking it dark and red and angry. He laps up the light sheen of sweat and it makes his palate ask for more of that sweet nectar of the gods.

 

His hands get more and more grabby as time goes on, pinned now between Phichit’s underwear-clad ass and the bedsheets. He can feel the fullness of his competitor’s rear fit into his palms with such perfection that Seung-Gil couldn’t resist gropping if he tried.

 

It’s pert and round and the swell feels so good to the touch that Seung-Gil might just opt to forever stay like this, sucking hickies onto Phichit’s skin, forehead pressed against his navel, and ass in hand.

 

Seung-Gil blows cool air into the burning marks his teeth made. “Do you- your-” He coughs, “Lube.” He feels his skin flush stronger when Phichit giggles at him.

Without reply, Phichit reaches over for his nightstand for a discreetly-packaged bottle of lube. The Thai’s spine twists, and suddenly that ass is all up in Seung-Gil’s face.

 

Before Phichit could even wrap his fingers around the bottle, he yelps loudly. Although painful, Seung-Gil’s canines biting at the bottom of his butt makes for pretty good foreplay.

“Hey now…”

 

His voice sounds small- submissive, even.

 

Seung-Gil bites at Phichit’s boxers and pulls them down. It probably looks silly- behaving like a dog, like a beast, but something primitive had already begun to take over in his bones.

 

Realizing he’s better off hiding his pink face in the pillows and sheets, Phichit hands Seung-Gil the lube and remains on his stomach. He does a mental-fistpump at the fact his hands only tremble slightly.

The Korean places a kiss to the newly-exposed skin. “I’ll be gentle.” It’s a promise.

 

Phichit buries his face down to the pillow, and muffles out a request that sounds a lot like “Please don’t.”, all while canting his hips up.

  


Captivating.


End file.
